We Learned The Sea
by Acanthusss
Summary: Jack Sparrow had escaped the night before his execution. The opportune moment at the gallows never came for Will, to confess his love for Elizabeth. The engagement between Ms. Swann and Commodore Norrington still stands...
1. Tomorrow We Land

Title: "We Learned The Sea"

Author: FF.N user ID: 381294

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: This is based on Disney's motion picture "Pirates of the Caribbean: Curse Of The Black Pearl." All rights reserved; no profit is being made from this story.

Summary: Jack Sparrow had escaped the night before his execution. The opportune moment at the gallows never came for Will, to confess his love for Elizabeth. The engagement between Ms. Swann and Commodore Norrington still stands. How do human hearts cope when having nothing that they hoped for?

Author's Notes: I'm not exactly sure how this will turn out. I hope to complete the story, however that comes about, but for now it's chapter by chapter. I'll try not to leave this one hanging like I have a number of my other stories. Thanks for your patience…

Also: The titles (story and chapter) come from Dar William's song "We Learned The Sea," from her 2000 album "The Green World."

* * *

Sparrow had escaped during the night. Though he never would admit it, Norrington thought he should have expected it. How many times had the pirate been on his way to the gallows in the past? In all of his experience, Sparrow was more of an escape artist than a pirate. It irritated the commodore to no end.

Norrington and Lieutenant Gillette resolved together to not give chase to the pirate. He was relatively harmless- not a murderer or a rapist, more or less a petty thief and troublemaker. And the more predominant situation at hand was that the men were exhausted, and they had no idea where Sparrow had gone. All the soldiers had found in the jail was an unconscious officer, an open cell door, and the ring of keys on the floor. The_ Dauntless_ would not go sailing off on a wild goose chase.

And the more predominant thing on the commodore's mind was Elizabeth Swann. He could not get her out of his thoughts. Around ever turn in his brain, as he walked through his duties and the day, there she was, hovering in the corner of his mind. She had accepted his proposal. James didn't even know what to do next concerning marital business. He had never really courted another girl, let alone marry. He would have to talk to Governor Swann. But after a few days, he resolved. He imagined Elizabeth was quite exhausted after the _Black Pearl _ordeal.

* * *

The first thing Elizabeth had done when she got home was bathe and climb into bed. She didn't care what time of day it was. She was home, clean, and in a warm, soft bed. Though she knew she ought to feel overjoyed, being back to normalcy- she was far from it.

When her head hit the pillow her mind started reeling. She was fretting over Jack Sparrow- he didn't deserve to be hung. Yes, he was a pirate, but also a good man. He had helped in her rescue, and in putting an end to Barbosa's evil doings. But first and foremost in her mind was Norrington. The thought of him loomed in her brain- she had said yes. She agreed to marry him. She was to be the commodore's wife. The action of accepting the proposal had been so spontaneous on the ship, when all she wanted to do was save Will.

Oh Will! He loved her and she loved him- she was sure of it. But she had accepted James's proposal. She couldn't go back on her word concerning something like that. Her father had seemed so happy too. He had already started making the wedding plans.

And the commodore- was he happy? He seemed stunned on the ship. But she had not gotten a private moment with him. Around his men he kept up such a cool exterior. Yes, he had been pleased with the news. But did his heart leap and his mind whirl like Elizabeth's whenever she dreamed on the prospect of true love? She had known the man for eight years, but did she really know him? Elizabeth didn't have the slightest idea of what married life would be like. Could they be husband and wife? Friends as well as lovers? Companions?

Will's face came to mind. He was the only one she could imagine herself with- being whole companions with. But it was not him whom she had promised herself to. She promised herself to another- a stranger.

Elizabeth blew out the candle, pulled the covers up to her cheeks and cried.


	2. My Ship Has Been Sold

Elizabeth had been overjoyed to hear about Jack Sparrow's escape. She had walked about that day with a slightly smug spring in her step, having the satisfaction that Sparrow had thwarted the navy. Her mood dampened when her father brought up the wedding- her wedding.

"Now Elizabeth," Weatherby Swann started at lunch with his agenda book at the table. "Do you have any preference for the date?"

"What date are you referring to," Elizabeth asked nonchalantly, pushing her salad around with her fork.

"Well your wedding date of course!"

The fabrications that had been running through her mind- possible and extravagant ways that Jack might have escaped- vanished and were replaced by a stone sinking in her stomach. "Oh," she paused. "That date."

"Yes- well you know you don't have to worry about seasons, as it is positively clement here all year round, so do have a favorite month?"

She didn't want any month! Elizabeth put down her fork and spoke quietly at the tabletop. "None in particular- might we ask the Commodore?"

"Oh come now Elizabeth, you must have some opinion," her father encouraged.

"No," she shook her head, putting on a little smile. "No it's alright. Whichever date that is at the most convenience is adequate."

"Elizabeth-"

"Really, father. I do not have any preference," she bit with a little more hostility than she wanted to let on.

Governor Swann put down his pen and frowned. "You know," he said with a tone of resignation, "I shouldn't be jumping into all these plans like this. After all you've dealt with as of late. You need to relax." He smiled and rose from his chair, walking around the table to his daughter. Elizabeth likewise pushed her plate forward and rose, taking her father's arm.

"Shall we go through the gardens?"

"Of course."

* * *

Sparks flew up precariously close to his face as he hammered away at the hot steel, but William Turner was expressing no great care for himself as of late. He'd been working in the blacksmith shop for at least ten hours straight today. He hadn't eaten anything, but he didn't notice his stomach knotting in hunger. The only thing he felt was the ache in his breast and weight in his mind. He tried to suppress the voice caught in his throat that wanted to cry, "Elizabeth! Elizabeth!"

He knew that he would never have her now- she was betrothed to the Commodore. Will wondered if he would ever see her again. He wondered if he even wanted to.

* * *

Author's Note: Thank you to any who reviewed the last chapter. I hope you enjoy this chapter, and the ones to follow. 


	3. The Compass Inside

Elizabeth had been sitting in front of her open bedroom window when Estrella, the maid entered the room. "The Commodore calls for you, Miss Swann."

Elizabeth turned about in her chair, slightly startled by the abrupt announcement. She put down the needlework she had been struggling with. "The Commodore?"

"Yes, miss. He waits downstairs."

"I'll be down in a moment."

"Yes miss."

When Estrella left, Elizabeth got up and strode to her vanity, smoothing the wrinkles in her dress and ran a brush quick through her hair. She had been sitting and stitching for about an hour or so. She paused, wrapping a curl of her brown hair around her finger. The Commodore. She had not seen him since they had parted ways at the harbor- some eight days ago. The last thing exchanged between them were Norrington's words of apology that he could not see her and the Governor home, as there was a brig-full of pirates waiting aboard the_ Dauntless_.

James had kissed her hand and looked at her with a small but genuine smile, saying quietly, "I will come to you as soon as I'm able." Elizabeth had smiled and looked at her feet that moment, embarrassed. When she looked up she saw Will over Norrington's shoulder. A sense of urgency filled her. She turned back to the man in front of her. "Good day, Commodore," she said with all the politeness she could manage. She climbed into the waiting carriage and saw Will with a shadowed brow, before he disappeared down the lane.

The image of Will's face froze in her mind as Elizabeth now walked down the hall to the staircase, where Commodore Norrington waited at the bottom. "Commodore, what a pleasant surprise," she said as she stepped down.

"I hope I haven't disturbed you, arriving without warning." He took her hand as she descended the last stair.

"Oh, not at all. I was just doing a bit of sewing."

Norrington smiled. Then his countenance took a more stern disposition and continued a bit bashfully. "Miss Elizabeth," he said. "Would you be too reluctant to come away from your sewing and take a walk with me?"

The request surprised Elizabeth, in its simplicity. "A walk sounds lovely, Commodore. Just let me go get my bonnet." She curtsied and went back up the stairs, hurrying to her room. She reached inside her doorway and took her hat off the hook on the wall, when she paused in the shadowed hallway, twisting the ribbon in her hands.

Elizabeth had never been alone with the Commodore before, save the moment of his proposal. But even that was with a great crowd milling about in the background. As the governor's daughter, she always had the company of a confidant- her father, a friend, a servant. Besides the whole excursion with the_ Black Pearl_, when all sense of etiquette had been abandoned,private moments between another man were few and far between. And Norrington was all about propriety. It was a surprise that he was even here so spontaneously.

Resolving to put her best foot forward and see what would come of this afternoon, Elizabeth put her bonnet on, tied the ribbon under her chin, and met Norrington at the door.

* * *

The two started down the path of the house and made their way off the main road down the grassy hills. There was a light, pleasant breeze that made the grasses undulate, and played with Elizabeth's hair and the folds of her and Norrington's clothes. They walked casually with casual conversation. James started with inquiring about her day thus far.

"Today I haven't done much," Elizabeth said. "I've been trying to make a cross-stitch of the scene outside my window of Port Royal. I'm almost finished with it."

"I'd like to see it when it's complete," James smiled at her, looking sideways. He walked with his hands clasped behind his back. Elizabeth strolled matching his step, her skirts swaying like a bell around her waist.

"And you, what did your duties consist of today?"

"Paperwork mostly. Investigations, inspections, calendars."

Elizabeth laughed softly through her nose. "Nothing compared to a few weeks ago, no?"

"I doubt anything will compare to a few weeks ago," Norrington said dryly. Then he frowned slightly and spoke with an earnest tone. "Are you well recovered, Elizabeth?"

"Oh yes," she replied, perhaps a little quickly. "My doctor says I'm quite well."

"Are you?" James halted and faced her sincerely.

Elizabeth's smile, which had never reached her eyes, faded. "I am. I'm alive, aren't I?" Indeed her fate was far more fortunate than many of the Navy's men who had been involved with the _Black Pearl_.

The two persons continued walking in uncomfortable silence for a while, until Norrington spoke up. "Elizabeth," he started. "I must ask you something." His voice was very business-like.

"Yes?" she awaited his inquiry.

"Are you honest in our engagement?" Elizabeth froze, staring at the Commodore. His face was unreadable. He continued, "When you accepted my proposal aboard the_ Dauntless,_ I can understand you were under a deal of stress and looking for means of saving Mr. Turner. I will not hold you against it now if you wish to retract your word."

"Commodore," Elizabeth said, slightly incredulous. "Do you think I would play you against your feelings?" He was making her sound like a vindictive manipulator.

"Miss Swann," he clipped. "Are you honest?" he repeated.

Looking up into his eyes, Elizabeth wondered how well the man could read her. Could he sense the conflict inside her? She could think of no one but Will as the Commodore's question rang in her ears.

But the sinking feeling in her breast said that a relationship with William was impossible. They were childhood friends, and everything around them told they could be nothing more. She was the governor's daughter, and he but a blacksmith. The match between Elizabeth and the Commodore seemed predetermined.

Out on the open sea Elizabeth had accepted what was expected of her, and she agreed to marry the Commodore. If she had been able to negotiate Will's rescue along with it, the situation was made all the more bearable.

"Yes Commodore," Elizabeth said. She tried to smile reassuringly. "I am honest."  
Norrington breathed deeply, but his visage showed no reaction. "Let me promise you, Elizabeth," he started austerely. Then his voice dropped to a tenor of complete sincerity, "That you will have nothing but my utmost care and devotion." He did not blink as she pledged this to her.

Elizabeth smirked. "Are you honest?" she joked, trying to shake off her disquiet.

Norrington smiled at her. "Indisputably," he replied.


	4. Strength Of Your Will

Author's Notes: I again apologize these updates are tending to be few and far between. I haven't gotten the chance to type up and post the new additions, but I promise that I haven't abandoned the story- it is being written out in a notebook during my free time. School is almost done, and then leisure time will be abundant. Thanks to those who are reading; any comment/criticism is much appreciated.

* * *

It became a common occurrence to see the Commodore call for Elizabeth and walk the hills with her on clement afternoons. The strolls were always slightly formal- there was laughter and smiles, but the conversation remained markedly friendly. It was fairly easy, both persons having years of experience exchanging civil dialogue in various circles of society. 

Elizabeth noticed the lack of romantic manner on Norrington's part, but she never brought it up. She did not desire such affections, but she could not help but wonder- was he conducting himself for the sake of propriety? Was he being shy? In her worst moods she had condemned Norrington as an ill-tempered, unfeeling uniform, but she knew that wasn't true. He had spoken to her in utmost sincerity that one day, and she remembered the moments when she spotted fire in his eyes- that fateful day on the docks when Jack Sparrow stood over her had his irons about her neck.

It hurt Elizabeth, that the Commodore felt so much for her; she doubted her own emotions would never measure up to half his amount. But where were his affections now? They were getting to know each other better, Elizabeth had to credit that. But they were to be wed, and they were not playing the part of fiancées.

Elizabeth did not want to dance around the situation. Avoiding the subject wasn't getting them anywhere, not making it any more bearable. Anxiety was one of the worst things in life, and the only cure was acceptance and resolution. Elizabeth was going to try this medicine.

She resolved to confront it. She would also try to measure up to the Commodore's affections. There was no where else she could direct her efforts; there was nothing else she could to.

* * *

Commodore Norrington came for dinner one night after he retired from his post a late afternoon. Governor Swann met him at the door and bid the servant girl Estrella to alert his daughter that their guest had arrived. She curtsied and hurried up the stairs to Elizabeth's room.

"Milady, the commodore is here."

Elizabeth turned from her reflection in her mirror. "Thank you Estrella. I'll be down in a minute." She had just finished fastening an ornamental piece in her hair, tied up in back. The barrette had been a gift to her from the Commodore two Christmases ago. The design of the metalwork was not unlike the feathers of a bird. Elizabeth hoped the Commodore would notice. It was a step towards trying to fill the role of bride to be, no matter how reluctant she actually was.

Estrella lingered at the door. "Do you need assistance with anything, miss?"

"No, thank you," Elizabeth replied as she smoothed out the folds in her light blue dress and turned about. "I'm all ready." She made her way out of the room.

Her father and the commodore had been in the sitting room when Elizabeth met up with them. Norrington stood from his chair when she entered the room. "Good evening, Miss Swann," he greeted, bowing at the waist.

"Good evening, Commodore," she replied and curtsied. "I trust your day has been well?"

"It has been well." He nodded, then said, "Miss Swann, I have been looking forward to seeing you all day."

Elizabeth just smiled a little, unable to express the sentiment shared. Her father saved the awkward moment.

"Well then, let's not hesitate. To dinner, shall we?"

The walked to the dining room, where the table was set for three. "Let me tell you," Swann babbled, "that my cook makes the best roast duck on the island." They took their seats, Governor Swann at the head of the table, with Elizabeth on his right and Norrington on his left. As the night and courses proceeded, they all held light, pleasant conversation, including a rather funny story shared by the Commodore about Lieutenant Gillette and the jailhouse dog.

The night did not drag on as Elizabeth had feared, but was quite enjoyable. There were no trivial relations brought up, no gossip that reared its ugly head regularly at other social gatherings. It was all of good humor- until dessert.

Governor Swann took advantage of a brief lull in the conversation to ask- "So have you two decided on a date yet?"

Elizabeth and Norrington looked at each other. Both remained silent for a moment, sitting rigid like two teenagers who had just gotten in trouble.

"Well," Norrington started in a cautious tone.

Elizabeth interrupted. "September," she said. "September."

Norrington nodded, in attempt to hide his confusion. "Yes. September," he repeated.

"I've always liked September," Elizabeth carried on, notably avoiding the gaze of the man across from her. "It's the month of mother's birthday after all."

"Yes, that it is." The Governor smiled at that.

"But," Elizabeth continued. "I'm afraid we haven't decided on anything else. We've just been discussing, enjoying the planning."

Norrington just sat, trying to maintain a regular expression.

"That's nice to hear," Swann said. "We can finally start pushing ahead and making things happen now for this occasion."

"Yes," Elizabeth said quietly, smiling slightly, her eyes dropped to the silverware.

James didn't say much for the rest of the dinner. He occasionally stole glances at Elizabeth, wondering at her. She had taken the initiative. The wedding had gone unspoken between them for a couple of weeks. James hadn't wanted to rush Elizabeth and end up pushing her way.

After dinner Elizabeth came outside with Norrington for a brief private moment.

"Elizabeth," the Commodore spoke earnestly. "I-"

"Don't worry Commodore," Elizabeth interjected. "I want this," she said softly, looking at the buttons on the officer's coat, catching the light of the setting summer sun. "I said yes to you that day. Surely you haven't forgotten?" she jested, trying to make lighter the mood.

"I assure you Miss Elizabeth, there is not a day that goes by when I do not recall it."

"Then if we are to do this, we must put our best foot forward and step into this great mess of planning. Don't you agree?"

"I do, Miss Elizabeth."

There was a quiet moment; James tried to read into Elizabeth's eyes, past her seemingly glad expression. In his head he ran through all the possible doubts, hesitations, and reservations streaming through either of their minds. The loud caw of a nearby bird refocused his mind on what was before him.

"September?" he voiced.

Elizabeth nodded. "Yes. September." Then she smiled at him, and after the final exchange of good-nights, waved him off as he headed down the drive.


	5. Take The Wheel

Ever since Elizabeth had given her father a date, there now seemed to be a never-ending onslaught of questions. Guest lists, menus- the illustrating of a picture perfect wedding, it all depended on Elizabeth. Flowers, ribbon, candles, stationary… It was all incredibly distracting. But she took it head on. The simple, trivial problems pushed the larger distresses away from her attention.

The Governor, being the public figure that he is, idealized a large wedding with guests from all sorts of places with all sorts of titles. His daughter and he got into numerous arguments concerning the guest list- She preferred a smaller, less superfluous wedding. After speaking with the Commodore, compromise was reached for a wedding not very big but not so private either.

The relationship between Elizabeth and James became a deal more affable, as they were spending time together cooperating and in various ways supporting one another, getting through the toils of daily life. They could call one another good friends, besides acquaintances and fiancées.

In her earlier years, Elizabeth remembered being fairly casual around the Commodore- or Lieutenant, as he was then. She didn't see past his uniform as a child. As a commanding officer, his demeanor was iron-sided. But as she matured, being more emotionally attuned, she could see Norrington was very reserved around her, and it was not just out of plain propriety. She could sense his affections for her, however subtle they may be expressed. She was sorry to say she could not say this was mutual- it would make things so much easier. The thing that irked Elizabeth the most was that he was never out of uniform- always the British officer or British gentleman.

Concerning the organization of the wedding, Norrington left most of the selection to Elizabeth as she liked, but once and a while he would offer a suggestion or point something out as particularly agreeable or disagreeable. There wasn't any incident of notable conflict; both of their tastes were similar- fairly simple and elegant. Most of the disagreement was between Elizabeth and her father. Norrington stayed out of these arguments.

Concerning the wedding dress, Norrington was not included, as it was tradition. Only as a bride was walking down the aisle would the groom first see the gown. The dress Elizabeth had chosen was long, elegant and cream-colored, with pearly embroidery and detail. Long sleeved with a flowing veil and train. Elizabeth, like many daydreaming girls had long dreamed of her wedding gown.

On the day the seamstress came to fit it, Elizabeth's breath had been taken away. It was amazing; it seemed to manifest straight out of her thoughts. Elizabeth, standing in front of a three-panel mirror spun about, holding the folds of the skirt out at her sides.

"Beautiful, ma'am," the seamstress said, kneeling at the hem, pinning it up. Estrella seconded the comment, as she stood aside by the bedpost.

"Thank you," the bride said with a faraway look into the mirror. She pictured the moment, standing at the back of the church, with all the flowers and ribbons decorating. There would be music in the air, coming from the piano and strings, as she walked up the aisle past the familiar faces-

To the Commodore.

Elizabeth was suddenly aware of the weight of all the fabric, the pinch of her shoes, the constriction of her corset, and the heat of the air coming in through the open windows.

All this time she had been planning the wedding of her fantasies, and every detail was coming together wonderfully- except it was all for something she did not want to go through with. James Norrington was not the groom in her imaginings. William Turner's visage appeared before her in her mind's eye, standing across from her at the altar, saying, "I do." There was not a day that she went on not entertaining the idea that it was actually Will that she was marrying. It was the only thing that kept her going on to make the planning decisions.

Yes, she was lying to herself. She admitted this to herself every night as she laid her head on her pillow. But if it alleviated some mental distress, even momentarily, she didn't have the heart to care. In moments when she could not pretend, as when she was facing the Commodore, she took a leaf out of the navy's book- put on a fighting face and push forward. In Elizabeth's case, a fighting face was a false smile.

"I don't want to be married!" The sentiment resonated in Elizabeth's head. "Not now! Not to the Commodore!" She blinked rapidly, denying tears of sorrow and frustration from spilling onto her skin. She wanted to tear off the dress and throw it out the window, to be ruined by the next rainstorm. But she could not. She stood silent before the mirror, loathing the person staring back at her in the mirror.

Why couldn't she be more courageous? She could run away with Will; they could rendezvous with Jack Sparrow, and sail across the seas for the rest of their days. They would be happy, they would be together… But was that courage or cowardice- abandoning the marriage? Elizabeth scolded herself, thinking of such a fool's ideas. She was being selfish, and cruel to Norrington. She had dedicated herself to this engagement, and she would not slink away. She would hold her head high as she marched down the aisle, with as much as a granite demeanor as her soon-to­-be husband.

Maybe she could learn to love him.

Putting a stop to her tumultuous reverie, Elizabeth turned to the seamstress. "It's wonderful." Her voice cracked as she said this, and she hoped the old woman would confuse this with a sob of joy. She must have, for she gave the Governor's daughter a smile. "My father will have the payment to you then, within the week," Elizabeth continued, retaining a formal tone. "Thank you again."

The woman took this as her dismissal, and left after curtsying. Estrella set to taking the dress off. "You are very beautiful miss," the servant girl said, echoing the seamstress's prior comment.

"Do you really think so, Estrella?" Elizabeth asked, only half registering the discourse.

"Oh yes, miss. Marriage is always such a beautiful, blessed occasion."

"Yes," Elizabeth sighed, her eyes dull, disillusioned. "A blessed occasion…"

* * *

Author's Notes: I am glad to have updated so soon again... I hope you are enjoying this story. Please leave any question, comment and/or critique; it can be concerning anything such as the writing style, the plot, the characterization- Readers thoughts are all highly valued; I'll be sure to respond. 


	6. We've Reached The Strait

Commodore James Norrington stood in the front of the church in full dress uniform, complete with his sword at his hip. He even wore his characteristic stern militaristic gaze, despite however joyous a marriage was supposed to be. The man hoped no one could hear how rapidly his heart was beating.

There were countless faces filling the pews of the church; few he truly recognized. A number of his men, including Lieutenant Gillette and Groves, he could see at the back of the church, standing as ceremonial guard. He had no family in Port Royal to witness his wedding; they all resided in England. But they had offered glad congratulations in their latest letters.

Practically all of the wedding guests were public acquaintances of Governor Swann. Norrington probably had met them on one social event or another, but he could care less if they were here or not.

The violin quintet began to play, and Norrington turned his attention rapt down the aisle. Elizabeth appeared all in white, her skirts flowing all about her, and the gossamer veil pinned to her hair, covering her face. Her father, in his finest outfit, held her arm. They began to walk toward the altar.

Elizabeth's head was held high, and her stride did not falter. Her demeanor was confident and strong.

James recalled all the doubts and misgivings he had about the marriage. How sure was Elizabeth's heart was in this- She had said her heart was sure, but he could not ignore William Turner, and his friendship with Elizabeth Swann.

Norrington would love Elizabeth unconditionally; there was no question- the inquiry was how much would she care for him?

But they had gone through all the planning, and now, they were in the church.

Elizabeth came to stand beside James, as her father gave her away. The priest began his citation, addressing the whole congregation: They were gathered to celebrate the matrimony of Commodore James Norrington to Miss Elizabeth Swann.

The betrothed matched one another in their rigid formality, as if they both under military procedure.

The priest asked Norrington if he would take Elizabeth as his wife.

"I will," he said, more sure of anything he said before.

The same question was repeated to Elizabeth, to take James as her husband.

"I will," she said, unwavering.

The prayers and readings were done, and they exchanged vows, and placed a wedding band on the others finger. When it was asked if there were any objections to the marriage, Norrington's heart jumped into his throat, but was then put at ease when silence answered.

The priest pronounced them husband and wife- and James Norrington, known for a regular iron expression, could not stop a smile from crossing his features. He then lifted the veil from hiding his wife's face.

There were tears in her eyes and on her cheeks. She looked up at him, and her lips trembled in a feeble smile. James's grin faded; there was no mistaking what kind of tears they were. He was motionless for a moment, until he leaned forward and gave Elizabeth the lightest kiss.

* * *

The reception was held at the Governor's house. Wedding gifts were presented, dinner was eaten, toasts were given. Elizabeth and James Norrington shared their dances, sat beside one another during the meal. They cut their dessert cake, and shared a piece. 

Elizabeth knew they were both putting on good faces. She knew Norrington could sense her ill feelings. He had seen her tears. They exchanged not a private word yet, only interacting as if they were working off a script- inserting the name of the other in speeches and conversation, embracing at appropriate moments.

Elizabeth wished the Commodore would say something to her. He had not looked her directly in the eyes once since their kiss, a kiss she barely even felt. She did not know how he was hurting. How would they behave toward one another when they arrived at the house they together would now call home? How would she face her husband?

* * *

Coming to the door of the Commodore's residence, anxiety flooded Elizabeth's brain. Norrington held her arm gently and led her in. The house was quiet; the only sound was that of their footsteps and the closing of the door. 

Elizabeth tried to block out all the unpleasant thoughts that were assaulting her, horrific suggestions on what kind of wedding night this would be for her. Would they share a marriage bed? Elizabeth swallowed, feeling ill. She could not be a willing lover- not to the Commodore. Not when in truth, her heart belonged to another.

They stood in the darkness of the house, dim starlight shining in through the windows. Elizabeth turned about to face Norrington. Would he still take her into his bed despite the day's hurricane of varying emotions?

James took Elizabeth by the arm again and led her upstairs, when they paused in the hallway, standing between two doors. He motioned to the door on the left.

"Here is your room," he said shortly.

Elizabeth had to cough slightly before she was able to speak. "My room?"

Norrington said nothing, waiting for her to speak further.

She stuttered and mumbled, "You mean- we… you-" Her cheeks burned in embarrassment, trying to address such the subject of consummation.

Norrington knew what she was trying to say. His turned directly to her with a steely gaze and he spoke quietly, with an almost harsh tone. "If you bear in mind an idea of my behavior or intention toward you that is in any way malicious or selfish, you are gravely mistaken." After of moment of heavy silence, he then turned around and disappeared into his own room.

Standing alone in an unfamiliar house in her wedding dress, the warmth of the air seemed to be stolen from around Elizabeth. She went into her room, changed into a nightgown and crawled into a bed unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Too exhausted, the new Mrs. Norrington let herself just fall into a deep slumber, while her husband in the room next door sat on the floor, leaning against the wall, silently weeping.

* * *

Author's Notes: I'd like to know what you think concerning where the story is heading. What do you like and dislike about it? What do you think should happen? What would you like to read about in upcoming chapters? I'm interested to see what you think of this plot. I'll appreciate any feedback. Thanks for reading, as always. 


	7. Losing This Boat

Author's Notes: I offer my apologies to the reader for the extended hiatus I've taken on writing fanfiction. My final year of high school and other creative writing projects took up a deal of time, and I must confess to a lack of inspiration and ambition on my part for this story. But I haven't forgotten it; I still have plot outlines scribbled out in a notebook. I do hope to complete this story, but I can't make any promises. I'll try my best, and in the meantime, here's the next chapter. I hope you enjoy it. And remember – feedback is always welcome! Thank you for your time.

* * *

When Elizabeth awoke, she opened her eyes to a sight she would get used to in a short time. The bedroom Norrington had given her had been previously guest quarters, of elegant whitewashed furniture and pale green walls. Now it was her own, with her dresses filling the wardrobe, her stationary placed in a desk, and her other trinkets waiting to be moved from their trunk to a new place in the room.

The lacy curtains were swaying in the breeze, coming in through the tall, floor-length windows. Elizabeth rose from her bed to look out and learn the view. In close proximity to the beach, she could see right to the water past the pathway and trees. Boats and ships could be seen bobbing on the waves, their sails and ensigns fluttering. Fort Charles was visible off in the distance, down the road. She breathed in the salty air, and closed her eyes, trying to calm her nerves.

There was a knock on the door that startled Elizabeth. "Yes?" she called. The door opened, and a servant girl with stringy blond hair entered.

"Good day, Misses Norrington," she said. The title momentarily stunned Elizabeth.

"Oh… Good day." She recovered herself. "Is it after morning?"

"It's nearly noon," she said, pouring water from a pitcher into the porcelain washbasin by the mirror. She stood to the side, and curtsied with towel in hand. "My name is Clara, madam. I'll be your lady's maid."

Elizabeth stepped back from the window and went to the washbasin. "Thank you Clara," she said and washed her face.

"The Commodore is at the fort, but he will return for dinner." Clara handed over the towel.

Elizabeth patted her face dry and sat down before the vanity. "He left?"

"Yes madam. Early this morning, as always."

Elizabeth didn't know whether she was glad Norrington was gone, or dismayed that she had just been so left alone. Clara began brushing her mistress's hair, humming quietly. The girl's reserve was a contrast to Elizabeth's last maid in her father's house, Estrella. Without the idle chatter she was left to her own contemplation.

* * *

James Norrington returned home at dusk. Elizabeth had been sitting in the parlor, hardly reading a book. She had not turned a page for the last quarter hour, but just sat waiting to hear the front door open. When it did open, she remained rooted to the spot. She glimpsed the man's form passing the doorway. After a hesitation, she rose as quietly as she could to stand in the hall to see James's heel disappearing up the stairs. They did not see one another face to face until they sat down at the table.

Fish, vegetables, bread and wine were set in between them, as they took places at opposite ends of the table. For the majority of the meal their eyes remained fixed upon their plates. All apparent practice of social interaction disappeared and conversation was stunted.

"Commodore?" Elizabeth finally dared to speak as her meal was nearly finished.

"Yes, Elizabeth?" Norrington did not look up at her. He cut a piece of fish and brought it to his mouth.

How could she proceed? She replied with a question; if it was rhetorical she was not entirely sure of herself.

"Why are we like this?" She barely whispered, setting down her fork.

Norrington was still impersonal. "Could you please elaborate, Elizabeth?"

She almost bit her tongue in frustration. "Commodore," she started again, this time with more force in her voice. "We are now husband and wife. But we were more amiable when we first met eight years ago!"

He looked up at her now, his jaw set. "We are husband and wife, but still you address me no differently as you did those years ago. I have hardly ever heard my given name spoken from your lips." His voice was raised and harsh.

Elizabeth was so reminded of herself in Norrington that she could not retort. For the memory of Will Turner flooded her mind, when it was she who had pled with him to call her "Elizabeth" instead of "Miss Swann." Now Norrington was asking the same thing of her, and the empathy hurt.

"I'm sorry Comm-" she stopped. "I am sorry, James. I am too used to addressing you in formal circumstance."

Norrington took his napkin from his lap and folded it beside his plate. "Well we might as well retain the formalities. It is clearly the most comfortable kind of relation between us."

"James, I-"

"Don't lie, Elizabeth. Especially to yourself. It is quite apparent that any intimacies attempted at the present time would be egregious."

"What evidence compels you to speak from such a position," Elizabeth pressed, though she already knew the answer. But she had to have all uncertainties eliminated, with all the realities in plain understanding.

Norrington spoke quietly, sadly. "I saw your tears at the ceremony. You know I did, and do not try to disguise them as happy tears. They were honest, at best." Then he rose from his chair. "If you would excuse me, Elizabeth, I'm afraid I must retire."

Elizabeth nodded, fearing if she said anything, she would start to cry. Even being a man so practiced in concealing his emotions, Norrington had allowed the hurt to seep into his voice. Guilt plagued Elizabeth, that such unhappiness was brought to such an undeserving man.

This marriage had not brought either of them much joy for the time being. Together they had taken that fateful step- or more accurately described as a leap- into married life. They had not landed safely on the other side yet; they were stuck in mid-air, but not plummeting into a chasm below. Elizabeth was yearning for the old, familiar ground that she had left. But James was hoping for new land, and to reach it with the love of another.


	8. Think Of The Crew

Author's Note: Thanks to all readers and reviewers; your thoughts are always appreciated. Your encouragement helps this story move along, and I am glad to say it's developing well- I can promise a subsequent chapter fairly soon. Since the last update I've seen "At World's End," and I'm quite determined to write out a better fate for my dear favorite character (though it might be a while- this story will get a bit more angsty before it gets better). But until that conclusion, thanks for continuing to read!

* * *

James and Elizabeth Norrington had been engaged in an awkward dance for the past month. They were always being too careful not to step on one another's toes, constantly watching their feet. From an observer's perspective, their interaction seemed friendly and affectionate- all movement made was charming and graceful, everything expected of a husband and wife. But at closer proximity, uneasiness radiated from the two persons. Their movements were rigid and graceless, excruciatingly measured. Each social event the couple attended together became not unlike a play, and they were the actors. Though neither of them were strangers to the social game, to perform to such a constant extent was exhausting. 

But it was at a dinner party when the façade began to crumble, and sincerity replaced polite pretenses.

A wealthy merchant by the name of the Sinclair was the host, or more appropriately, his wife was. Mrs. Sinclair always took full advantage of the family's fiscal status to throw as many parties that she could fit in a calendar. The Sinclair house and social circle was nothing foreign to Norrington and Elizabeth, having been attending the gatherings for years, and receiving invitations for an even longer time. The October night was pleasant, accompanied by breezes sweeping through the large house every so often, so the routine socializing wasn't too unbearable for them, until conversation took an uncomfortable turn. 

Elizabeth and James stood together in the foyer with the company of sugar plantation owners Mr. & Mrs. Hilderley, trader Mr. Staunton, and the widow Bryan. Mrs. Bryan had just concluded asking how the Commodore's most recent patrol at sea had been, about Jamaica and the neighboring islands, which Norrington had replied, had been relatively uneventful. The subject of voyages had then loosened a topic on Mr. Staunton's tongue, which was the _Black Pearl _debacle. He turned to Elizabeth, who inwardly grimaced.

"What an awful plight for you to have experienced, Mrs. Norrington- Miss Swann, you were then."

"-Oh how time flies," Mrs. Hilderley interjected. "You are well recovered by now, my dear?" she asked, leaning in, touching Elizabeth's elbow. She didn't wait for her reply. "And how valiant a man the Commodore is, to have rescued you from such a fate. Such love and devotion!"

Norrington was wearing his best uniform, as well as his stone-faced expression that went along with it. Elizabeth responded, "Regardless of whom might have been taken captive by the pirates, Commodore Norrington would have acted just the same." To make sure that it didn't sound as if she was brushing off the Navy's efforts at mundane, she added, "So honorable a man he is."

"The same honor belongs to the marines of my crew, as well other vigilant persons," Norrington rejoined. Elizabeth's breath caught in her throat. He was referring to William Turner.

"Mrs. Norrington." Mr. Staunton ignored James's modesty and continued pestering Elizabeth, stealing her attention before it could dwell too considerably on the past. "You must enlighten us," he pressed. "Share a few tales of your adventures- or misadventures I should say- being among that pirate crew."

All those involved with the Black Pearl were by the present time, well rehearsed in relaying an account of the event with all the supernatural details concerning a blood debt for a legion of undead pirates omitted. Therefore Elizabeth replied, "I'm afraid I don't have much of an epic for you. Being locked in a pirate ship's quarters as hostage was frightening, but mostly uneventful. Overall the worst parts included the seasickness!" She smiled and laughed a bit, hoping the humor would divert the subject. But the gossips persisted.

"You weren't harmed at all?" Mr. Hilderley asked.

"Shoved about would just be the extent of it. After all, harming a hostage wouldn't have accomplished their means."

"It is almost unbelievable that you came away from such a band of men unblemished," Mr. Staunton said with a detectable patronizing, accusatory tone of voice.

Elizabeth's molars ground together, her jaw jutted. She knew this man was questioning her virtue. And so did Norrington.

"Mr. Staunton," he began, his voice raised, drawing the attention of nearby persons. "My wife" –his heart pounded as he said these words- "withstood the situation with fortitude and dignity, departing from it with only greater strength and honor." His profile was hawk-like, and the plump aristocrat recoiled under Norrington's glare. "Your inquiries are too bold, and your speculations libelous."

Mr. Staunton's eyes dropped to the floor, his lips pursed. "My apologies," he said and turned to Elizabeth, decidedly avoiding making further eye contact with the Naval officer. "Please forgive me, Mrs. Norrington." Staunton's voice was reproachful, and a shadow of a sneer was on his features. "Assuredly, your character is of great esteem." He then bowed to the circle of familiars. "If you'll excuse me."

"Certainly, sir," Elizabeth dismissed him. He took his leave, and the others followed suit, finding new, more lighthearted assemblies.

Walking together, Norrington's touch on Elizabeth's hand at the crook of his arm was strong. They both adopted steely expressions and faced straight ahead. A misplaced feeling of guilt had been instilled in Elizabeth by the Staunton's accusations. She felt sorry to have ever experienced that great escapade at that moment, and thinking of Will Turner, and of the man at her side, she perceived herself to be a terribly ungrateful. Of all the Commodore had done and was continuing to do for her, what had she done for him? And she had not seen or relayed a word to Will since her marriage.

Her heart ached a pain that had been dull and overlooked the past month; now the bruise hurt afresh. Her mind burned with memories she had not given consideration for some time.

"You do too much, Commodore," Elizabeth said, breaking their silence. "Day by day I go further into your debt."

"Elizabeth, never have I acted with expectation of reimbursement," he replied. He tried to swallow his next statement, but his desire pushed past his teeth. "But if you wish me to ask anything of you it is this-" Their strides halted and they faced each other for a moment. "As I stand by you, stand by me."

Elizabeth looked into James's eyes, the color of the sea. A sense of understanding hung in the space between them, of good intentions accompanied with uncertainties. There was still a distance to traverse- but they would travel together, even if their gaits were unlike the choreographed march of a soldier. Their hands were joined, as the rings matched on their fingers, helping the other along, to gain balance, pull up and along, or, to wait.


	9. Stars Of The Sea

Author's Note: Multiple chapters uploaded within a week- I believe that's a record! This chapter took some time to draft out in my notebook. Characterization was especially important and thus tricky in this chapter; any critique and opinion offered concerning it is greatly valued.

The plot is progressing... And I promise, readers- dear William is far from forgotten. He will be appearing relatively soon. I was pondering his re-entrance into the narrative all day at work today.

As always, you have my appreciation for reading!

* * *

At the end of a long, quiet day, Elizabeth and James found themselves sitting together on the balcony of their home. They looked out at the moonlight-flooded landscape of Jamaica, beyond the candle-lit town, over the dark, forested mountains in the distance. The sea glittered, its gentle waves of the calm night rolling up on the beaches, and rocking the ships at port.

Elizabeth relaxed, breathing softly and focusing on nothing but the view. James watched the same, but his thoughts wandered. A clement wind stirred him from his placid state, and looked to his wife.

"Elizabeth," he started. She blinked out of her reverie and faced him, smiling pleasantly.

"Yes James?"

He sat up in his chair. "Mr. Staunton's commentary several nights ago has brought to light that I myself of not know your entire account of what happened aboard the Black Pearl."

She raised an eyebrow. "Are you suggesting my virtue is tainted?" She asked this as a jest, but the Commodore began to apologize.

"No, Commodore, it was only a quip." She couldn't help but laugh a bit

"Yes. Begging your pardon." He cleared his throat and turned himself to face Elizabeth more directly. "I'm asking you, might you tell me what happened from your honest perspective?"

"Of course," she said, nodding. She looked down and played with a loose thread in her dress. "It's always difficult, a full re-telling, because it seems too much like a ghost story.

"I completely empathize. My soldiers and fellow officers avoid its mention like the plague. It is addressed the same way Lieutenant Gillette and I composed its report."

"And how was that?"

"We spared no detail, save all those that related to the supernatural."

Elizabeth broke the loose thread from the embroidery at her waist. She looked uncomfortable, but then began to tell her whole story. From the kidnapping, to where their paths joined when she had been rescued from the desert island with Jack Sparrow, to the final battle in the cave on Isla de Muerta. She told him of Will Turner, and all of his gallant efforts to save her that justified his illegal actions. But she did not tell Norrington of the emotional pull she had towards Will, that only intensified over the course of the journey. Her dear childhood friend. Her rescuer.

But James Norrington was also her rescuer. In turn, he told Elizabeth his side of the story. From the night at the battlements at Fort Charles, finding her marooned, but miraculously unharmed, to the last battle of the Dauntless and Black Pearl. He told her of the navigational plight, the frustration and anxiety experienced trying to find and bring her home, and the sorrow of loosing his men in battle against a new, demonic kind of enemy. He was still consumed by complete incredulity at the realization of such an existence.

The moon had traveled a considerable distance in the heavens, and cast new shadows on Elizabeth's face. "You doubt what your very eyes have seen?" she asked.

Norrington turned his hat over in his hands. "No, I do not, but I want to. It all goes against what I've believed to be truth all these years. Ghosts and curses and undead men hardly worked themselves into my logic and strategy when I encountered them. I conducted myself to the best of my ability, and did what I could." He paused, looking eastward. "It is strange what the heart will push out of the mind when it holds so strong an idea."

These words resounded in Elizabeth's brain. The mind pushes the heart around as well, she thought. She kept the conversation- "Did you ever believe in ghosts and curses?"

James laughed softly. "I think I did. When I was very young, and my older brother would try and scare me. Tell me of dead persons who wandered the moor."

"Do you believe in spirits?"

He nodded this time, his green eyes- silver in the night- softening with sincerity. "I believe in spirits, in souls. I believe in God, and God's creation. The land, the sea, and the wind. And I prayed near every moment that you would be kept safe where I could not protect you."

"I am sorry my circumstance made you suffer so," Elizabeth replied, that familiar weight setting onto her heart again.

"It's nothing you should apologize for." He paused, and then spoke quietly. "When we found you on that forsaken piece of land, my prayers had been granted. I don't believe I have ever felt such a relief. Seeing you well was all the reward I asked for in return of my efforts."

Elizabeth bit her lip and followed his gaze to the faraway bluffs, and the wispy clouds behind them. She rose to retire then, her skirts rustling about. She first stepped close to Norrington; he looked up at her. Then taking his face in her hands, Elizabeth bent and placed a kiss on his cheek. James's eyes closed as he took in every detail of sensation.

"Thank you, James. For doing so much for me," she whispered, her breath touching his ear. Then she left, going into the house.

When James opened his eyes again, it was to see the stars, hanging high in the vaulted ceiling of heaven. And he felt contentment, for to hear those words of gratitude spoken so, fulfilled a wish- just to know his undertakings fueled by love, did not go without sweet acknowledgement.

* * *

It seemed to be that when the sun went down, Elizabeth was filled with a greater courage that she could not muster in the harsh, direct attention of day. As the moon revealed the true nature of Barbossa and his men, for Elizabeth is evoked the most honest of thoughts, no matter how bold. For it had been at night when she had to face the vicious specters, and she made herself face them bravely. And the bravery was mounting again, as she began to take initiative in her married life, and not let it carry on like a humid Caribbean day.

But she was not without apprehension as she stood outside Commodore Norrington's bedroom, looking down at the dim light of a candle leaking onto the hallway floor from beneath the door, touching the toes of her slippers. Inhaling, she tried to still her heartbeat. Elizabeth rapped her knuckles gently on the door.

"Yes?" came James's voice.

Elizabeth turned the knob and swung the door open. She stepped in.

"Elizabeth," James said, surprised. He was sitting up in bed, with a book on his lap. He straightened up at her entrance.

The woman took a moment to observe the man. Uniformless, wigless, his brown hair fell into his face. It was unarming; the gold brocade, the iron façade of the Naval commander was gone- and sitting before Elizabeth in his own bed clothes was James Norrington, just a man. Her husband.

"Is everything alright Elizabeth?" He began to rise out of bed. She stopped him with a raised hand.

"No, you don't have to get up. Everything's fine." She fidgeted and clasped her hands.

"Do you need something?"

"No. James-" she began. "Might we-" she paused again, making herself meet his gaze- "try sharing a bed?"

James blinked, mute.

"Just to sleep beside one another," Elizabeth added.

James swallowed and found his tongue again. "May I ask why you have this request?"

"I would like to see how it feels- to be close with one's husband." She nearly stammered, reminiscent of Norrington's manner and elocution when he proposed to Elizabeth.

"Forgive my boldness."

"My dear, your boldness is a facet of your character that has always been particularly striking. You apologize too much," he said, smiling.

The next moment he looked very young and cautious. He moved over to the right side of the bed, and placed his second pillow on the left. Elizabeth approached the bed with as much apprehension as she harbored when walking the plank. She reminded herself that this was her idea. An attempt to aid in the construction of the bridge between them.

She took of the light robe that she wore over her night shift and placed it on the arm of the chair by the window. James closed his book and placed it on the nightstand and held the cover up as Elizabeth slipped in between the sheets.

"Are you comfortable?" James asked, looking her in the eyes. The simple question was heavily weighted in their circumstance.

Elizabeth fluffed her pillow and placed her head upon it, her dark curls spreading over it. "Yes," she replied.

"Shall I put out the light?"

She nodded.

James turned and blew out the candle standing beside the book, sending the room into darkness. But their eyes adjusted, and soon the room was filled by the moon and starlight alone- and it was a far more beautiful light.

James laid down himself, his head on the pillow. He turned to see Elizabeth, lying on her side, facing him. He mirrored her, and they spent a long moment looking at one another. Elizabeth's hand rested on the mattress between them, and James went with an impulse and took it within his own. She did not retract, but squeezed it with a tender pressure.

"Goodnight, James," she said.

James's lips parted with a joyful smile. "Goodnight, Elizabeth."


	10. Guiding A Ship

"Welcome back, Miss," Captain Barbossa snarled as he grabbed Elizabeth roughly by the arms aboard the Black Pearl. "You took advantage of our hospitality last time. It holds fair now that you return the favor-" He laughed as he shoved her at the men of his crew.

Their callous hands eagerly caught her and she screamed, fighting against their grasp. But there were too many arms, hands and fingers pressing at her skin, clawing at her clothes, pulling at her hair. Elizabeth shrieked for help- someone would come to her aid, wouldn't they? This seemed all too familiar.

Where was William? "Will!"

She shouted for him, looking past a dirty palm touching her face, out past the deck to the empty horizon. Elizabeth began to panic, and it was getting hard to breathe. An arm was tight around her chest, around her arms. Threatening faces obstructed her vision, and menacing touches were all over her. She struggled but could not move or breathe-

"I can't breathe!"

Elizabeth jolted; her eyes flew open, wide and wild. She found herself in the Commodore's bedroom, in the Commodore's bed. It was so hot! A sheen of sweat covered her skin; her night shift and sheets were tangled about her. The windows of the room were closed, blown shut by an erratic breeze in the night, cutting off ventilation. 

She pulled in her breath in large gasps. Elizabeth made to move, and felt the pressure over her chest, just as in the dream. She grabbed at the phantom arm to find a corporeal one. The urge to shout filled her throat, but she swallowed it when she discovered that it was James Norrington who had his arm about her. In their sleep, Elizabeth had lain, her back against him, and he held her to him in was had been a tender embrace- It had become suffocating in her nightmare.

The effort to sneak out of her husband's arms was fleeting, for so suddenly upset was she that she roughly threw off his arm and jumped out of bed.

James awoke abruptly. He sat up and looked at his wife, pacing and biting her lip, pulling at her slightly damp hair. She didn't even glance at Norrington when she turned and left the room.

She went to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of water, drank it. Inhaling and exhaling deeply and deliberately, she tried to slow her pounding heart and cool herself. It was not long before James appeared in the doorway. He had put on his uniform breeches and shirt, though the cuff links were undone, as well as the buttons at the neck.

"Elizabeth, are you alright?"

"Yes!" she replied too quickly and loudly to ever be convincing.

He approached her. "You look ill." James pushed a strand of hair off her forehead. "You're feverish." James reached to the washbasin and dampened the cloth that was beside it. He made to place it on her cheek, but Elizabeth took it from his hands and rubbed it on her neck.

"Thank you James," she said. He continued to scrutinize her, concerned. "Oh, I'm alright. I just had a bad dream, nothing more."

"What was it about?"

Elizabeth fought to keep the nonchalant expression on her face. "It was about the Black Pearl," she confessed, and a shadow was cast over her features. "A memory. After they had taken the Interceptor down-" the Commodore grimaced at this- "And I had been recaptured." James cast aside his brief irritation and focused on what Elizabeth was recounting.

"Everyone was on deck, my hands were bound. Barbossa threw me over to his crew. They grabbed at me, pulled at my hair, clothes and skin." Elizabeth began to tremble again, the feeling of the instance renewed by her haunted senses. James himself began to quake, though he with anger. Elizabeth continued.

"I was certain I was damned. But Will climbed aboard- he escaped the explosion- and he bartered for my safety. And I was let go on the island with Sparrow. But in the dream Will didn't come, and they wouldn't let go." She rubbed her face in the towel, breathing out for a long moment. "But I woke up then. And the room was so hot, and-" she stopped, not wanting to hurt James's feelings.

"What else?" His eyebrows were furrowed, concern etched on his features.

"Oh, it was silly-" But it didn't feel silly- "It was just your arm had been around me, and I thought I was caught in the dream still."

"I'm sorry, Elizabeth," he started.

"No, James," she interrupted, with more force in her voice than necessary. "It's not your fault. It had just been a dream."

"I'm sorry that had ever happened to you," he went on to say.

"It's over now," Elizabeth said, shaking her head, in attempt to rid herself of the recollections. James stepped closer and took the cloth from her hands. Elizabeth yielded this time, and let him wash her face. He rubbed it softly over her forehead, cheeks, eyelids and mouth- a sharp contrast to the handling by the pirates.

"It's over now," Elizabeth repeated in a whisper. Her discomfort was dissolving. She remembered the true events. Will had come to save her… The picture of William Turner standing on the starboard rail, pistol in one hand, clutching the Pearl's rigging with the other, the passion in his heart overruling all other inhibitions. This heroic vision echoed in Elizabeth's mind's eye, even as James held her close for comfort and placed a kiss on her brow.

* * *

Patrols to various ports of Jamaica and the surrounding Caribbean were nothing foreign to Commodore James Norrington. When it came for the Dauntless and her crew to be out at sea for several weeks at a time, the men, including the Commodore, looked forward to it. All sailors become restless when having been on land for some time and yearn for the splendor of the open sea. 

When the H.M.S. Resolution came to the docks, the Dauntless was prepared to sail, according to patrol rotation. But this time, James Norrington was ambivalent about leaving. Never before had he left someone at home, other than housekeepers. New he had a wife to bid farewell to before the journey.

It was very early morning when James was setting out; the sky was brightening but the sun had not yet risen. His baggage was already aboard in his quarters- he had spent practically the whole of the previous night checking provisions and preparations for the voyage. He returned home to say goodbye.

Elizabeth and James had discussed his leaving beforehand. It was nothing unexpected, but it was unfamiliar. Elizabeth would be left as head of house, accompanied by her lady's maid, the cook and butler. Hardly left alone, her father promised to make visits, and regular tea appointments were made with acquaintances.

James entered the bedroom, as Elizabeth was still sleeping. He bent over her, and put a hand on her shoulder. "Elizabeth," he said quietly. He repeated this, rubbing her arm. Her eyelids fluttered open.

"James," she announced, sitting up. "Are you leaving?"

"Yes. We cast off in an hour. You can stay resting, I was just giving you notice."

"Nonsense. Let me see you to the door at least." She smiled through her drowsiness, and James thought she looked charming and was sorry to depart. But duty-bound, his schedule would not alter.

Elizabeth got up and washed her face, then pulled a silken yellow robe about her and put her feet into her slippers. She took James's arm, who was in full uniform.

They walked out to into the hall, down the stairs, to the foyer.

"I wish you a safe journey," Elizabeth said, facing Norrington.

"Thank you." He nodded his head in a formal bow. "I pray these next weeks pass by swiftly, that I may return to you. But I trust you will be just as well in the meantime."

"I'll be well," she confirmed. "I'll keep a good calendar so the days won't crawl by. And you needn't worry about me. I can take care of myself." She smiled, her eyebrows raised a bit.

"That I am fully aware of. But I will think of you regardless."

In the shadow of their open doorway, James looked down at Elizabeth's vibrant brown eyes, those that he would long for. She studied her husband's expression, while her own remained placid.

James's heart pounded loudly in his chest. "May I kiss you goodbye, Elizabeth?" He asked it before he could convince himself not to.

Elizabeth was taken aback by his question, and her chest seemed to tighten. "You may, James," she replied cautiously.

The Commodore raised his hand to the side of her face, cradling her jawbone. He leaned forward and touched his lips to hers. She expected it to end there, and was greatly surprised to say the least when the kiss deepened, and he moved his mouth against hers. Elizabeth pulled in a deep breath through her nose after a long moment in which she had forgotten to breathe in the shock. Her sharp inhale alerted James, who then stepped back abruptly. He took a breath himself, trying to regain his composure and shake off the desire that clouded his reason and better judgement.

"Goodbye Elizabeth," he said cordially, nervously.

"Goodbye Commodore Norrington."

He straightened his coat and then kissed Elizabeth's hand tenderly. He turned on his heel and strode down the road to the docks at Fort Charles. "Journey on," Elizabeth called after him.


	11. The First Ensign Watched

Author's Note: I offer my sincere apologies on the length of time between this chapter and the last. The update was delayed because I misplaced the notebook that contains what I all had written out! I was quite distraught as you can imagine. But I went ahead and rewrote the chapter anyhow; I'm really looking forward to completing this. I believe this is the longest chapter to date; I hope you enjoy it, and that it makes up for my tardiness. As always, thank you for reading!

* * *

In the Commodore's absence, Elizabeth tried out her new independence. Besides keeping mundane tea appointments and visiting her father in the afternoons, she wanted to be useful. Shirking the assumed elevated position of lady of the house- she never was one for convention- she accompanied her maid Clara, and learned how to keep house. She found she particularly enjoyed tending the vegetable garden and the flowerbeds, and the cook, an older woman named Margaret, taught her the regular recipes. Elizabeth went to the market with Clara, assisting her in picking out ingredients for meals, as well as shopping at the boutiques for a few new home furnishings.

On one such trip, Elizabeth stopped inside a craftsman's shop, one who made fine clocks and pocket watches. She thought one might make a good gift for the Commodore upon his return.

Walking over to a table by the window, she picked up a gold pocket watch in her gloved hand and opened it. On the face of the watch, a miniature painting behind the clock hands depicted a ship at sea, riding cresting blue waves. She could hear it ticking softly in the quiet of the store. She looked up out the window to the harbor of Port Royal. Real waves crested upon her home shores, rocking the docked ships. Her eyes scanned the crowds passing by, when she spotted William Turner- her heart stopped.

Will was with a tall, broad man carrying a coil of thick rope over his shoulder. The man was talking to Will, and Will was nodding- he looked thin and wan, and Elizabeth was filled with concern. She forgot about the gift idea, and she put the watch down and left the shop without a nod to the keeper and stepped into the street.

Clara had been waiting outside. "Mrs. Norrington," she said when her mistress reappeared.

Elizabeth quickly turned to the young woman. "Yes, Clara."

"Will that be all our errands, Ma'am?"

Elizabeth looked over her shoulder again- Will had disappeared. She nodded, feeling dejected. "That will be all," she said, and then made her way back to the house, stepping quickly.

Once in the door, Elizabeth went up to her room and sat down at her writing desk, and scripted an invitation to tea, addressed to Will Turner. Once sealing it, she sends off the butler Thomas to deliver it, with instruction not to return until he has answer if he will come or not.

Will did accept the invitation, though very reluctantly, and came to the Norrington house a Thursday afternoon.

Elizabeth sat on the edge of the couch in the parlor where the tea was set for at least fifteen minutes before Will arrived. When the doorbell rang, Thomas answered it, and Elizabeth stood several feet behind him.

"Hello, I've got an invitation for tea from Mrs. Norrington," Will told the butler.

Elizabeth cleared her throat and Thomas stepped aside. "Come in, Mr. Turner," she said.

Will looked better than when she had seen him two days ago; there was more color to his face, and his hair was clean and pulled back smartly.

They had not been so close since they were aboard the Dauntless, after defeating the Black Pearl pirates.

Elizabeth could not help from smiling widely at him. For a moment it looked as if a smile tugged at the corners of his lips too, but he kept his demeanor reticent.

"Hello, Will. I'm so glad you could come."

Will bowed, his lips pressed tightly together now. "I could never shirk and invitation from you," he stood straight again, looking into her eyes, "Elizabeth."

Elizabeth's smile quivered, and she held her arm out to the parlor. "Tea is served," she said.

They took seats across from one another.

"Where is Commodore Norrington?" Will asked.

Pouring the tea into Will's cup, she answered. "He is currently making a patrol voyage in the Bahamas."

Will frowned. "This seems inappropriate."

The old familiar flame of independence of Will's old friend flared. "I am head of this house; I may call upon friends if I wish."

"This friendly calling certainly is spontaneous," Will bit impatiently, understandably as an honestly heartbroken man.

Elizabeth picked up her own cup and saucer. "Yes, it does seem so. These past weeks have been strange, and unpredictable. I saw you at the harbor on Tuesday, and the notion that I must see and speak with you was instilled in me."

"Only upon seeing me?"

"No," Elizabeth glanced down. "I've wanted to see you for a long time- you're my greatest friend, Will."

Will was silent; he looked down into his cup, filled with black tea. The tea set was the Commodore's- it was an old one, the paint on the porcelain faded, depicting scenes of the English countryside.

Not touching his cup, Will sighed. "I was at the harbor bartering passage on a trade ship."

"Passage?" Elizabeth repeated. "Bound where?"

"The American colonies."

"The colonies!" she exclaimed. "Why?"

Will leaned forward with his shoulders on his knees, holding his hands out, palms up, in likeness of bearing all. "I can't stay here anymore, Elizabeth. It's become unbearable over the last months."

"You can't leave!" Elizabeth pled, suddenly desperate. She had been hoping to reestablish a connection with one she held so dear, and now it would be fruitless. "You must stay!"

"Why? The island had more than one blacksmith. I will do just as well, perhaps better in the colonies."

"I'm not talking about business, Will, you know I'm not! I am asking you to reconsider."

"Why, Elizabeth?" he asked again. "I have not had a word from you in months! Not even on the occasion of your wedding. If I am such a great friend, wouldn't have I been allowed to attend?"

Elizabeth's eyes began to well with tears, and she bit her lip.

"You have a husband now," Will continued. "You have a new life. Now I must find my own."

"I wouldn't have been able to do it if I saw you!" Elizabeth burst, crying freely now; it had been a long time since she allowed herself to do so. But she could no longer contain the truth of her heart. "If I saw you before the wedding, I would not have been able to marry the Commodore. I could have never taken those vows."

With an almost hungry look, William edged forward on his seat. "Tell me why, Elizabeth."

"I-" she choked on her words, and shook her head. "Don't make me say more, Will. I have known it in my heart, but if I admit it out loud I will come undone."

"I had come undone a long time ago, even though I did not proclaim it. But I will now." He stood. "I love you," he declared.

Elizabeth covered her face with her hands. Will saw the ring on her left hand. He went on. "I should have told you every day from the moment I met you. But I've been too cautious. We've been too cautious, if your sentiments are the same." He swallowed; emotion was rising up in his throat. "But it's too late. We both shall have new and very separate lives in the future."

"And what shall we do in the present?" Elizabeth uttered weakly.

"We must say goodbye."

Elizabeth closed her eyes, and round tears fell from her lashes. Will stepped forward around the table and took her hands. He looked at the left, the wedding band glinting in the light. "The Commodore loves you. Try and love him, as you could not love me."

Then he took her right hand and kissed it tenderly. She opened her eyes and stared intently into his face, memorizing his features. He met her gaze. "Goodbye, Elizabeth." He let go and moved to the door, into the hall.

It took but a moment for Elizabeth to submit to her own heart, desiring to match Will's for honestly. She flew from her chair and dashed into the hall, skirts ruffling behind her. She caught Will by the arm in the foyer. He turned around, and Elizabeth pressed her lips to his.

Stunned for a moment, he afterwards returned her embrace fiercely. Her lips were salty from her tears. Their hearts raced and they held each other close, fearing to let go.

But Will did let go, when he felt the cool metal of Elizabeth's wedding ring against his cheek. He stepped back. They looked at each other, having been caught up in their passion. Then reason began to creep back into their minds.

Will retreated to the door and spoke not without crying. "Goodbye, Elizabeth Norrington."

His words, her name hit her like a broadside. "Goodbye," she whispered as he disappeared behind the closed door. She was left alone in silence, frozen, the taste of William's kiss still in her mouth.

She was rooted to the same spot that James had kissed her goodbye. It paled in memory, in comparison to the embrace she and Will shared. She knew that a likeness to it could never be achieved with Norrington, for the mutual feeling of such desire was absent. She did not love him in such a way. But they were bound in matrimony. And upon this thought, Elizabeth sank to the floor, weeping anew with a greater sorrow, of guilt and grief.

* * *

On the same night that Elizabeth met with William Turner, Commodore Norrington stood on the deck of the Dauntless in a pitch-black night. There was no moon, and the stars were veiled behind midnight clouds. The ocean was very still, with an eerie silence hanging over the water. The only light was that of the ship lanterns, casting a ghostly orange light over the ship.

Lieutenant Gillette walked up the stairs to the upper deck to join Norrington, who had been more silent than usual.

"Evening, Commodore."

"Good evening, Gillette."

"I hope you're well James," he said, dispensing with titles, speaking with Norrington as the friends they had long been.

"I'm fine. Just a bit distracted."

Gillette hummed in reply, nodding with his character smirk playing on his mouth. After a moment of silence, he went on feigning small talk. "May I inquire after the health of your wife?"

"Very perceptive, Andrew."

"You should expect nothing else from me," he declared smugly in jest. "I've known you since we were midshipmen. As iron-sided as you portray yourself to be, I won't let you forget there's still a wooden hull underneath that metal, just like every other ship."

James rolled his eyes. "Thank you for that insightful simile, Andrew."

"Complimentary, sir." He smiled for a bit, then asked with all sincerity, "How is Elizabeth?"

"Distant," James sighed, looking off to the hidden horizon.

An approaching marine interrupted them. "Commodore; Lieutenant," he saluted.

"At ease," Norrington nodded.

The marine continued. "Sirs, it's hard to say in the darkness, but if you look just southeast beyond the stern, I believe there's a ship in the distance."

Gillette took out his spyglass and peered through it. Against the black of the night, a shadow of a ship was indeed discernable. "Sail ho, Commodore. Could it be the one we're looking for?" He passed the glass to Norrington, who saw it as well.

The H.M.S. Dauntless was currently searching for a pirate ship responsible for the attacking and seizing of merchant vessels in the Bahamas.

"It is a possibility. Raise the men and call to arms. Silently," he added.

In short time, the soldiers were assembled on deck with muskets and swords. But by that time, they had lost what sight they had of the unknown sea craft. But it was nearby; thus they waited- Either for the ship to show itself, or to wait until the sunrise would reveal it.

After an hour's time, the men grew impatient. But Norrington would not ignore the unsettling feeling in his stomach, or the sense that someone was just behind him, staring at the back of his head.

Gillette marched up and down the deck, in slow, quiet steps. He looked up at James, still stationed on the upper deck, illuminated by the lanterns, when without warning, two shots rang out in the dark. The ship's lantern's shattered and the lights were extinguished; darkness enveloped them.

"Commodore!" Gillette shouted. Had Norrington been hit? Gillette clambered up the stairs.

"I'm unharmed, Lieutenant," Norrington's voice came. Gillette's eyes were adjusting and he could see Norrington, standing rigid. "Be silent," he ordered. "Stay alert."

The crew's ears strained to listen to their commander's voice. They could only see his silhouette. Each man stared wide-eyed into the night while their enemy remained invisible.

Norrington overturned the shattered glass from the lantern with his foot, as the glass had been blown onto the deck. Looking up again along the possibly traveled trajectory of the assailant's bullet, all was veiled. Patience was wearing thin.

But it was rewarded- for suddenly out of the dark and the fog a ship came bearing down on them, of a dark-colored hull and gray sails. It sailed parallel to the Dauntless, on its starboard side. Shadows of men could be seen on deck and hanging like spiders on the rigging.

The Naval captain shouted across the way. "This is the H.M.S. Dauntless. Identify yourself!"

Silence. The captain repeated his call- "Identify yourself or prepare to be boarded!"

There was a clattering sound of a chain and pulley, and against the black sky and the black fabric, the white skull and crossbones of the pirate insignia would be seen rising on the mast. The shadows moved, the metal of weapons shimmered. It was all still silent, until they fired first.

An onslaught of orders were issued. Men manned the cannons, held their muskets aloft. The battle was engaged.

Shots were fired in the dark, at passing specters. The Dauntless rumbled with cannon fire. The muzzle flash would illuminate the scene for a moment, providing an ephemeral heading. But the pirates were not using their cannon; their intent was to take the ship, not sink it. They kept sailing nearer, closing the gap between them, and then like phantoms, came down from their ropes and descended on the Dauntless.

The deck was soon filled with combatants. The pirates were attempting the greatest silence as they moved, using the dark to their benefit. The only sound they made was frenzied breathing, rustling clothing, and footfalls. It was cowardly, but cunning. It infuriated the Commodore.

Norrington parried the blow of a pirate's sword and lunged at the man, felling him. He turned about, his weapon held before him and defended himself thrice over. When a gun fired, the flash was reflected off his bloodstained blade- and the ring upon his finger.

Norrington's heart skipped a beat as his mind flew back to Port Royal, to Elizabeth, and his brain was filled with anxiety. This situation was nothing new, being in mortal danger was nothing foreign. He had not feared it before. But now, he wished to remove himself from it and ensure that he lived another day to see his wife again.

This distraction was his downfall. He had frozen only for a moment, but that was all it took. A searing pain cut across his back. Hissing through clenched teeth, Norrington spun around to make out a massive figure holding a short sword. He lunged again, and the Commodore fought back with a fury, but each time he swung his sword, the pain of his wound increased as the muscles in his back stretched.

The pirate swung wildly and fiercely, bearing down on James. Norrington narrowly deflected a blow to his head, but the man dropped the sword directly down and struck Norrington's leg, cutting deep.

A pained shout burst from his mouth, and his left leg buckled; Norrington could not catch himself. He hit the deck hard and waited for the killing stroke, damning his foolish doubts.

But it never came. Looking up, the man's shadow loomed over him, his sword raised. But before he had been able to fall, a second person charged the man, driving their own sword into the pirate, who fell heavily. Gunpowder lit again, and by the light James could see it was Lieutenant Gillette who had saved his life. He kneeled over his friend-

"Will you be alright?"

"Yes," he replied thickly, pain and bitterness in his voice. The Commodore was furious that he had been defeated so, from allowing his sense of duty to wane, replaced by fear and desire. Even though it had been a second, he paid severely for it.

Gillette turned back to the melee, but staying close by Norrington. It so happened that the man the Lieutenant had defeated had been the captain of the pirate gang, and the resistance soon crumbled without leadership. Their stealth disintegrated by the dawn's early light, and when the sun peaked over the horizon just beneath the clouds, the pirate crew was accounted for as defeated and captured.

Norrington was one of many attended to by the surgeon; wounds were cleaned, stitched and bandaged. The pirates were allowed to attend to their dead, then the prisoners were placed in the brig.

By the afternoon the marines whom had fallen were laid to rest, buried at sea, passing under the cover of the flag of their country. Norrington declared the names of the dead soldiers gravely, standing on his own in respect, but when the crew bid peace to their last fallen comrade, James had to take a cane to lean upon. He would not let anyone try to support him, but Gillette kept a careful distance as he followed him back to the commander's quarters.

Norrington went to his desk. Gillette closed the door behind them.

"I do not require a nurse, Gillette," he said, looking down at the maps.

"I know that there are ailments other than physical that are unsettling you." Andrew stood with his chin thrust forward.

"Are you referring to my pride? I can assure you that it does not suffer, even though I am very nearly a cripple. Severe injuries are expected in military service, there is no shame in withstanding them."

Gillette frowned. "There is something other than the results of the battle that bothers you."

"Once again, Gillette, very perceptive," he said a bit scathingly. Upon seeing his friend's irate expression, James dropped his head. "I apologize." He took a breath. "Yes, there are other factors."

"And they are?"

James would not tell Andrew of the anger he harbored for himself because of his error in concentration. He would only receive another lecture on the common hearts of men. He curtly replied, "Personal."

"Alright James. We all have our secrets, I'll let you keep yours."

"Thank you." James sat down gingerly and awkwardly, stretching his leg out in front of him, and leaning forward, keeping pressure off his back. The cane was placed against the desk. "Now," he began with formality. "As our scheduled docking date is several days overdue, and the fact that we are in need of repairs and carry a brig full of pirates, Port Royal shall be our heading. Relay this to the pilot."

"Yes sir," Gillette replied. He saluted and left. Soon the sails caught a favorable wind and the Dauntless was on the return journey home. As the ship rose and fell on the crests of the waves, Norrington stared at the charts, comparing it to himself. In one hemisphere was Elizabeth, in the other was the King's Royal Navy. But he could only wish that his heart could be as calculated.


	12. Tempests All Tried Me

Author's Notes: This fanfiction is nearing its conclusion; this chapter and the successive ones will commence resolution. It's all written out in my notebook, all that's left is to type it up and have my sister proof-read. Thanks to all who have read, and to those who have reviewed. I hope the story continues to be enjoyable- though I'm not sure all will appreciate the direction it goes in. But not all can be pleased; I wrote what I believed to be true to the characters. The last chapters will be up in good time, for I must be sure to get them all uploaded before college starts (which is September 4th), before all my avocational writing time is thrown out the window! But for now, I'll have fun writing this, and I hope you have fun reading it!

* * *

When the late-November day that James had expected to return home by came and went, Elizabeth had no realization of it. Ever since she had seen William, her mind constantly roiled like the waves of the coast during a storm. She carried through the days in a stupor. She kept to the house, for fear of any soul perhaps detecting her misery and doubt, her secret and scandal. 

She dreamed of kissing Will nearly every night, even when she concentrated to clear her thoughts, resting on her pillow. Elizabeth slept in her own room- for going into James's would seem adulterous, even in his absence. For she cared for James, but loved Will.

She was cheating James, and she cheated Will as she harbored severe affections that she could not express. Elizabeth was cheating herself; like a ship deliberately sailing further into a maelstrom.

When Thomas the butler announced that the Dauntless had docked at Fort Charles about an hour ago, Elizabeth had been sitting in the parlor, slipping into a shallow slumber. Upon receiving the news, she immediately felt terrible. She had not kept track of the days, dreading the Commodore's return. For when he came home she would have to lie again.

The state of their marriage was worse off than when it had begun. It had been good for a while- when Elizabeth had been sincerely trying to move on and love James. But she relapsed. One could change their mind easily enough, but the heart was another matter entirely.

Elizabeth rose from her chair and looked at herself in the mirror above the fireplace. Her weary expression stared back. A good wife would make herself presentable and attractive for her husband. A bad taste filled Elizabeth's mouth. In every possible way, Mrs. Norrington was deceiving the Commodore, putting forth a façade. She couldn't stand her reflection- she turned quickly away to go to her room and change.

* * *

James Norrington did not arrive at his home until late in the evening. Before he could leave Fort Charles, he had to oversee the imprisonment of the pirates and begin to complete the necessary records- Gillette and Norrington would be pouring over papers for days. But distraction was affecting James acutely, as the source was such a small distance away. 

Sitting across from the Commodore in his office, Gillette smiled sympathetically at his friend, noting the lines on his face and the way he fidgeted with his pen. They worked past sundown, until Gillette suggested they retire. He insisted to escort Norrington home, all too wary of his weakened state. James objected initially, but agreed to it, on a compromise that Andrew would just walk with him to his street.

When in sight of his door, and the lighted windows, the Lieutenant bid his Commodore goodnight and made his way to his own residence.

Elizabeth had been sitting at a cold dinner setting when she heard the door open. She stood and listened; there was an odd rhythm to Norrington's footsteps- there was an odd sound to his walk, an added step. She went to the hall and saw the Commodore leaning on a cane. She gasped and hurried forward.

"James!" she exclaimed, rushing to take his arm. "What happened?"

Relief and contentment flooded James upon seeing Elizabeth, and he momentarily forgot about his injury until Elizabeth was so alarmed.

"I was injured in combat," he said. "We fought and defeated a pirate ship that had been preying upon merchant ships." Norrington allowed himself to be led to the couch in the parlor.

"How did it happen?" Elizabeth had him sit beside her.

"By a sword," he began, and thus recounted a brief synopsis of the battle. "It will heal in time," James concluded.

Elizabeth looked at his leg, the wound hidden by his breeches for the most part; the fabric was raised and tight around the bandaged around his thigh. She tried to remember the last time she had seen Norrington hurt in service- but she could not. To see the weakened state of James, one normally so composed with posture rigid, was alarming. Elizabeth wondered what other scars were hidden beneath his uniform.

The Commodore did not tell his wife about the cut on his back until they retired. Getting into bed was a struggle for both of them- his, physical; hers, mental. James climbed into bed and hissed in pain when lying himself down, and he told her the cause.

"You're not hiding any other wounds, are you?" Elizabeth asked, her voice unsteady.

"No, there are no others."

She sighed, pulling the covers up to her waist and facing James. "I am glad you are not harmed in any other manner."

"As am I," James said. In the dark, he then told her of the fear he had on the Dauntless, the fear of not seeing her again. He refrained from confessing that it had been this fear that earned him his injuries. He would not instill any sort of guilt in her.

But she had already sufficient guilt. Elizabeth swallowed the urge to cry. To her, it seemed that her actions regarding William had called for this- Norrington's suffering- as a kind of retribution. So long as she maintained the insincere matrimony, the worse the outcome would be when things fell apart- if they fell apart. Perhaps Elizabeth could try again? To forget her heart as she had previously and begin anew when Will left for the Americas? But that night, when she had woke from a dream in which she shared a bed with William Turner, not James Norrington, she began to sink into real depression.

* * *

The spark of free spirit had never shown as brightly in Elizabeth ever since what had took place involving the Black Pearl pirates. Those who were generally acquainted with Elizabeth had said that, indeed, the ordeal had been terrifying and sobering to the young woman. But those who knew Elizabeth and had experienced them even as well- namely James Norrington- knew that barbaric pirates and ghosts were hardly enough to scare her and break her spirit. In some corner of her mind, Elizabeth was most likely grateful that she had been thrown into the whole adventure. What was weighing upon her shoulders was something else. 

And though she reassured him again and again that she was alright, that she was satisfied, James knew Elizabeth was hiding something. He feared, not without reason, that it related to the relations of certain persons, specifically her and he. He did not want to make assumptions; he placed a great deal of trust in Elizabeth's word. He would not interrogate her, for some part of him did not want to find out, in case it broke his heart.

Apathy enveloped Elizabeth as she went through the days inclined to silence. With the truth of her heart realized and confessed, every hour was deception. It was plain to William and to her, but concealed from James, who did not deserve falsehood.

A storm that fell upon Jamaica brought a change in the winds that blew Elizabeth and the Commodore off their course, into a fateful new direction. It started to rain just before dinner time one night, preceded by hours of dark skies and choppy waves. Ships came in to anchor, shutters were secured over windows as everyone prepared for the wind and the rain.

James was caught in the weather on his walk home from Fort Charles. As the walk took longer than usual due to his inhibited gait, he was soaked to the bone upon reaching his door. He took a bath immediately to stave off illness, and Elizabeth ate dinner without him. James ate alone, feeling a chill that did not entirely relate to the rain. He listened to the heavy raindrops fall upon the house. Rumbles of thunder came from the distance, getting louder with each crash. The storm became their lullaby when a sense of weariness came to occupy the house, and all retired early.

James eased himself into bed beside Elizabeth, who already had crawled beneath the covers and sank into her pillow. She was still with her back to him. Norrington extinguished the lamp and was able to lie gingerly on his back; the gash was healing. Lightning flashed and streamed in through the shutters, and the sound of the storm filled the void of communication that hung over the room.

"Elizabeth," James spoke softly in the lull of the thunder.

She hummed in response. "Hmmm?"

"You haven't been yourself as of late" –she hadn't been herself for a long time- "I'm concerned for you." He paused, and then sat up and turned to see her dark profile. "Elizabeth, please tell me what is ailing you."

Elizabeth did not answer. Assuming she was no longer awake, James laid back down to sleep as well. But there was no rest to be had for the Commodore's wife.

She lay still with her eyes wide open throughout the night, listening to the storm. The house shook from the thunder, and rattled with the wind. An hour passed, and James was sound asleep when Elizabeth left the bed, hearing the gale's effects increased in severity.

She did not feel at all apprehensive as the forces of nature threatened the Norrington's house. In previous years, she remembered that she would always feel a little nervous, but this storm brought nothing. Lately no occurrence could rouse any significant feeling from the constant sadness weighing on her mind.

Elizabeth tied her robe around her waist and walked through the house. Her feet led her downstairs to the sitting room, where the results of the weather conditions were fully visible through the glass of the large front window.

The palm trees were bending to an extreme angle, risking a fall. The choppy, white-capped waves of the ocean crashed at rapid intervals on the beaches. As the wind blew the rain onto the glass creating a constant fall of water, the view was made opaque, creating the illusion that the house was submarine.

An immense thunderclap sent a quake through the house and woke the Commodore in his room upstairs with a start. He sat up quickly, unsure of his surroundings for a moment, the noise had sounded so much like a barrage of cannon-fire. James noticed Elizabeth's absence immediately, and his concern took him out of bed. Getting up, his leg especially hurt. Grimacing, he took his cane that leaned against his bedside table and made his way to the hall.

Thunder crashed again and the electric light of the storm filled the house. James made his way down the staircase a step at a time. He found Elizabeth in the sitting room, watching the rain. She looked as if she was underwater, as the shadows rippled, filtered by the sheets of rain.

"Elizabeth?" James called over the din.

Elizabeth jumped slightly in her seat and looked up to see him. "James," she breathed.

James stepped further into the room. "Why are you out of bed?"

"The storm woke me up," she lied. Elizabeth kept her eyes averted from the Commodore.

"Elizabeth," he said. "I'm concerned for you," he repeated. "You are not yourself."

"You're right James," she said, barely audible above the storm.

"Then could you please tell me why you are so dispirited?"

"No." She shook her head, wearing a sad smile.

"Explain for me," James persisted, his jaw clenched.

The rain came down against the window harder, and Elizabeth raised her voice. "I can't speak to you without lying!" The shouting lured the truth out, not allowing for any hesitation. "I'm incapable of being honest with you! Every day, James, I've lied," she choked out, not letting tears stop her. If it was to all end now, then let it be. She could not tolerate it any longer.

Norrington's face was stony, and he only looked at Elizabeth. How could he proceed after such a proclamation?

All was interrupted when a sound not unlike the strained creaking of a ship came above the roar of the tempest. A narrow shadow fell across Elizabeth's face as lightning flashed, and James turned to see just in time the a tall palm tree, broken at the base, falling toward the house.

Norrington dropped his cane and leapt forward, seizing Elizabeth. The top of the tree fell through the window, sending shattered glass, water and leaves across the room. The wind tore through the air as the storm was inside the house now. The spray of it and the nearby sea covered the room and the two figures lying in the corner, against the wall.

Elizabeth was prone, and James held her close with his arms about her, trying to cover her as best he could. Her long hair whipped about them in the fierce wind, tangling with his own, slick against his skull. Elizabeth's cheek was against James's chest, and even above the immense roar of the storm, she could hear his heart rapidly beating.


	13. If God Were Beside Me

The marines of Port Royal had their share of community service the days following the storm. They were dispatched around the town to assist in repairing what they could, and clearing away the damage, including the tree from Commodore Norrington's sitting room.

Norrington had instructed his men to remove the debris from his home last, despite the magnitude of the damage. As he was physically unable to aid in the effort, it was dutiful to be self-sacrificing.

It was evening when the palm tree was finally towed out, and the broken window had been boarded up. The soaked upholstery had been taken outside earlier, to dry in the sun, under now-clear skies. The broken items, such as the table and the very stool Elizabeth had been seated upon, had been disposed of.

James Norrington stood in the middle of the leaf- and twig-littered floor, dressed in dry clothes, but without wig or uniform coat. He bent over and picked up a large palm branch and found underneath a painting that had been blown off the wall. It laid facedown in the dampness.

He picked it up; water dripped from the frame. It was an old painting, sent over to him from England for his first birthday stationed in Port Royal. It had been a scene of the Northern English countryside- a place he had called home when he was younger. His brother's wife had painted it for him. Now it was a muddied and scratched blurry canvas.

James had not seen his family in a long time- eight years it had been. The fancy of travelling to see them flitted through his mind. But his brain was flooded with the consideration towards whom he called his immediate family.

In the hours previous, Elizabeth had confessed to James that all this time she had loved William Turner. She insisted that she had tried to love James; there was a time that she thought she did- but upon seeing Will, her affections for her childhood friend could not be denied.

Elizabeth offered a thousand apologies. She told him that Will was leaving for the American colonies, and naively suggested that since he would be absent, she could keep trying to love James. She wanted to, she had said. But the Commodore knew that she never would. Their marriage would always remain "a smart match," a formal, bureaucratic partnership.

James knew he could not make Elizabeth happy. Content, perhaps, comfortable in lifestyle, but never happy. If he kept her as his wife, he feared he would hurt her more, and lose forever the vibrant woman he had fallen in love with. This was the last thing he desired.

"So this is where your heart truly lies, then?" He looked at her sitting up in bed against her pillows despondently.

"It is," Elizabeth replied calmly, with no more tears left to weep. She was so weary after she finished telling her account. Tired but well; she had no more lies to veil.

James rose from her beside then to leave her to slumber. She rested easy that night, as the only weight upon her was the weight of exhaustion upon her eyelids, as the heaviness of her pretext had been finally lifted.

* * *

The next day Commodore James Norrington called on Elizabeth's father, the Governor. It was then that Weatherby Swann learned the reality of his daughter's marriage. 

"Your daughter is in love with William Turner," Norrington bluntly stated.

Swann was caught off-guard. "What? Has she-" his stammered.

"She has committed nothing dishonorable," James interjected. "She has only been honest."

Governor Swann's brow furrowed beneath the large curls of his gray wig. "Why are you the one bringing this revelation to my attention?"

James's hands clasped tighter as he held them behind his back. His face remained grave. "Because I only wish for Elizabeth's happiness. Therefore I am asking you, as governor and as her father to annul our marriage."

"Annulment?" he gasped, rising from his chair. "On what grounds might it be granted?"

"The marriage was never consummated," Norrington replied, looking past Swann to the window. Weatherby looked embarrassed for a moment before Norrington went on. "I would never harm your daughter. The continuation of our union would be nothing but egregious to her character." He was proceeding militaristically, not allowing one shred of despair or heartbreak to find its way into his voice.

The Governor regained his composure. "You are an honorable man, James Norrington. Extremely, extraordinarily selfless." He paused, glancing down at his desk, then raising his eyes, a bit steely, again. "But have you considered this? What of the social repercussions?"

"I could care less what the gossips of Jamaica find to entertain their tongues," the Commodore rejoined. "As for Elizabeth-" his voice softened- "Mr. Turner is to leave for the Colonies. Let Elizabeth go with him. There they might begin a new life, where it is rougher, simpler, more enterprising. They would do well, free from the condescension of this society." He took a breath. "I speak with only concern for Elizabeth's well-being. Take into consideration nothing else on this matter."

"And has she consented to an annulment?" Governor Swann walked around his desk.

"Her signature upon the document alongside my own will confirm it."

"You have not yet told her of this proposal?"

Norrington winced inwardly at Swann's word choice. He had first come to the governor to ask for his daughter's hand in marriage. Now he was requesting that the bond be reneged. "No," he said. "I wanted to be sure it could be done first."

Weatherby sighed and tapped the back of the office chair. "She is in love with Will Turner?"

"She only accepted my hand because of her love for him." Norrington's green eyes darkened as he remembered recovering Elizabeth from the island that Barbossa had left her on. "That Turner's life could be saved in exchange for it."

Governor Swann recalled this too, as well as the words he had spoken aboard the Dauntless the night of the cursed battle. He meant for Elizabeth to hear them, but she had taken flight from the ship to join Will and Sparrow in the cave of Isla de Muerta. She risked all for the boy they had found orphaned and adrift in the ocean on the crossing from England. Weatherby had told his daughter to watch over the boy all those years ago. She watched him, and came to love him. Who was he to deny it? And now he looked at James Norrington, whose devoted heart was victimized in this fate.

"I will grant you your request, Commodore." Swann sighed and frowned. "I am very sorry, James."

"As am I, governor."

Swann reached out and shook Norrington's hand. "I enjoyed calling you my son-in-law. Know that you will always be welcomed as part of my family."

"Thank you, Weatherby," James grasped the older man's hand. He then stepped back and bowed, making his leave.

"I am not unfamiliar with losing a loved one," Swann went on. "I will never say it will be alright, but I will wish for you to find happiness."

"Thank you, sir."

* * *

Norrington did not go to Elizabeth with his proposition after the meeting with her father concluded. He had one more person to see before he did so. 

The Commodore arrived at Brown's smithy in the late afternoon. He knocked on the door, and Will Turner answered.

Will's brown eyes widened at the sight of the officer. Had he discovered evidence of his and Elizabeth's rendezvous?

"Commodore," he said.

"Mr. Turner." Norrington nodded curtly.

"Come in, sir." Will pulled the door open and stepped aside. "What can I do for you?"

Norrington looked around the shop, newly fashioned swords handing by their hilts, alongside other metalwork. A new blade was cooling in a tub of water, and the coals of the fire were red-hot, a rod of steel heating.

"I recently learned that you plan on leaving Port Royal for the American Colonies?"

Will's heart pounded. He had told none other than Mr. Brown and Elizabeth of his leaving. Perhaps the marines had investigated the passenger logs of the ship he was to board. He hoped this was the case; he wouldn't jump to defend himself.

"True, I leave next week Sunday."

"Why, may I ask?" The Commodore's cool demeanor was unnerving the blacksmith.

"I'm looking for a new start," Will answered, turning away from Norrington.

"I'm going to be frank, Mr. Turner. I am aware of your and Elizabeth's shared feelings."

Will tried to sidestep. "Feelings concerning what, Commodore?"

James was not up for playing rhetorical games. "She loves you," he almost snarled. "And you love her, do you not?" He wore a fearsome expression, like that of a wounded animal. Will dared not lie to the man.

"I do, sir." Then he jumped to defend himself. "I thought that much was evident from past occurrences."

"Then you would take her as your wife?"

Will blanched. "Commodore, you are her husband."

"If I was not, would you?" James stared the young man down.

"If she would have me," he declared.

Norrington stepped forward. "Then I will tell you now to take Elizabeth with you when you leave for America. The marriage between she and I was never meant to be; it is to be annulled."

"Commodore Norrington," Will gasped, swallowing his heart, which jumped into his throat.

"Her heart lies with you, Turner. I will not stand in the way of it."

Will blinked, dumbfounded, and looked about, trying to reassure himself that the world had not just turned upside down. If James was being honest, then his life was just made complete. "I don't know what to say-"

"Say that you will take her with you. Give me your word that you will do everything in your power to guarantee her happiness."

For a moment Will was afraid that Norrington was going to leap forward and grab him by the collar. But the man stood straight as the mast of his ship-of-the-line. "You have my word," Will affirmed.

Norrington drew his sword from his hilt, the one Will had forged for his promotion to Commodore. The smith flinched, startled.

"This is a fine sword, Mr. Turner. I would expect the man who made it to show the same care and devotion in every aspect of his life."

"Thank you. Sir."

Norrington sheathed the blade and fixed Will with his most steel-like gaze. He bowed to him, who still stood staggered. James turned to exit, but stopped at the door. "Your ship departs on Sunday?"

"At dawn."

"What is the vessel?"

"The Charlotte. The captain's name is Jackson."

"Elizabeth with meet you at the docks."

And with that, the Commodore left.

* * *

Author's Notes: This story is very near its conclusion. I'm grateful for any comments and critique you might have to offer. My thanks to you for reading! Also: The line referring to America as a "rougher, simpler, more enterprising" place is a reference to a line in Sherman Edwards's "1776," a very favorite play of mine. 


	14. I Sang In The Wind

Author's Notes: I changed the name of the ship the "Bonnie Blue," to the "Charlotte"- a little tribute to a favorite film, "National Treasure." Previous chapters have been edited accordingly. Now onto the final installment!

* * *

After Commodore Norrington had secured passage aboard the Charlotte, he went to Elizabeth himself, to tell her of what had been arranged. Over dinner, Elizabeth had remained completely silent as he explained an annulment was being prepared, that he had guaranteed her a place on the same ship that would carry William Turner away from Port Royal. 

Elizabeth's only words were, "Why are you doing this?"

"I love you, Elizabeth," he replied, and left her alone for the night.

The next morning they traveled for the last time as Commodore and Mrs. Norrington to her father, who would validate the annulment document as governor. Elizabeth said not a word to protest.

The scratching of the fateful pens was extraordinarily loud in James's ears. He signed first, forcing his hand to move over the parchment. Then Elizabeth attached her name in a quick, fluid motion. She looked nervous. Lastly, Governor Swann applied his own name and seal.

Elizabeth was left at her old home that night, but returned to Norrington's residence the next day with her father's butler to retrieve her things, which had been readily packed by Clara.

The maid said goodbye to her mistress, not without sadness, for they had become good friends in the time they knew one another. The most difficult moment came when Elizabeth stood with Norrington for the last time in the foyer.

"So your father agreed to your leaving?" Norrington asked stiffly.

"Yes. He did not want to, but he did." She looked at him straight in his green eyes, and he could see that old spark. She continued, "He asked me, 'So, this is the path you've chosen, is it?'"

"And your answer was?"

"Yes."

"Then I wish you well," he said, bowing his head.

"Thank you James." She wrung her hands, frowning. "And… I am sorry."

The Commodore fell back into his military demeanor. "Do not apologize. It is all said and done."

"Then let me thank you again," she pled, stepping forward. "You posses the greatest heart, James…"

Norrington closed his eyes; he did not want to hear this. She was only sewing more seeds of sadness into his heart with her polite gratitude.

"…You have done so much for me-"

"My purpose is to serve others, Elizabeth. Nothing needs to be done for me."

Elizabeth swallowed apprehensively. "May I give you a gift?"

When he did not answer she pulled out a small bundle from her handbag. Wrapped in a handkerchief was the pocketwatch. "I meant to get it for you when you returned from your patrol…" she trailed off and handed it to him. The previous night she had gone out to finally purchase it.

James unfolded the kerchief, embroidered with flowers, and the timepiece sat in his palm. He opened the silver case and admired the miniature painting on the clock face. It ticked softly, steadily.

"Thank you, Elizabeth," he whispered, and wrapped it back up and pocketed it.

The butler appeared in the doorway. "Everything is set, miss."

"Thank you, I'll be a moment," she replied hastily, and the man went to take his seat as driver. Elizabeth turned back to James. His face was carved in stone, but his eyes betrayed his heart as they welled with sadness. "I suppose this is goodbye."

"This is goodbye," he nodded. James would not allow himself to kiss her. They were no longer husband and wife, and the only real kiss they had shared had been one goodbye kiss, there need not be another.

But Norrington did take her into his arms and held her for a long moment. Tears fell out of his eyes and into Elizabeth's long brown hair. When he let her go, they stepped out into the sun, which was shining brightly. James offered his hand to Miss Swann once more, only just to help her into the carriage. He stood back as the horses began to trot. Holding one another's gaze as long as they could through the window, they bid their last farewell.

* * *

Dawn had painted a pink and blue sky that hung over the Charlotte on the day it departed Port Royal- James Norrington had watched its sails disappear over the horizon. Elizabeth was aboard, and her companion was her fiancé, William Turner. With the Governor's rather reluctant blessing, they married upon their landing in the southern colony of North Carolina. Together they acquired a modest home on the waterfront, part of a small fishing village, and there, Will found work as a blacksmith. 

Elizabeth wrote to her father with news of their success and their happiness. And as expected, gossip swept through Port Royal faster than sand in a hurricane wind. While Will and Elizabeth had escaped their scandal; it was Norrington who had to tolerate the passing glances, whispers, and bold inquiries alike. The general sentiments concerning the matter included disdain for Elizabeth, who "had always been too free-spirited," and pity for James, "the most honorable of men." Even Governor Swann received criticism for making it possible for his daughter to run off with "the blackguard Turner."

To avoid it all, as well as distract himself from despair, James found solace in devoting himself wholly to his duties. The Commodore spent hours at the fort. In his office, he poured over paperwork and charts until the candles on his desk burned down to the very end of the wick. The marines endured drilling of a greater intensity than usual, on the battlements and deck. Norrington, in part as to earn a dreamless sleep, would push himself to exhaustion, exercising procedures alongside his men, even fencing with his Lieutenant, to improve his swordsmanship, despite his still-healing battle-injuries.

It was Gillette who had to act as a moderator, keeping an eye out for the condition of the troops- a reversal of roles, for usually it was he who normally cracked the whip harder- and especially for James himself. On numerous occasions, Andrew made it his responsibility to see James home, when his good friend had too long been sitting behind his desk.

Gillette had sat one night with Norrington in his home, sharing a drink. James had received that day a letter from his brother in England. The Commodore divulged to the Lieutenant his desire to perhaps sail to visit his family. Gillette of course immediately supported the idea of a well-deserved and much-needed leave from service.

"You've never asked for leave in your life. With out a doubt the Admiral would grant it," Gillette encouraged.

"You certainly don't have any objections," Norrington said, raising an eyebrow.

Andrew laughed, sitting back on the couch. "I'll pay for your passage."

"I believe your persistence on this issue is finally wearing me thin. Either that, or my good judgment has waned in the waxing of my weariness."

Gillette frowned across the tea table. "Thanks will be in order once you are rid of all the gossips and other intolerables of this island's society." After a pause for thought, he added, "Your brother lives in the countryside, does he not?"

"Yes, he does."

"All the more reason to go. Peace and quiet." He held his hands up as he reclined, as if the plain logic of his argument was visible there.

Norrington smirked. "Are you concerned for my well-being, or are you just looking to the step-up in rank when I'm gone?"

"Both- I will not lie."

James rolled his eyes, thinking of the possible scenarios in which Gillette would relish the new distribution of power most. "The marines will be overjoyed."

"They would count the days until your return," he chuckled. "As would I," he added sincerely. "I will miss you in your absence."

"I haven't even decided to leave yet, Andrew," Norrington quipped. Then softening his tone, he eyes read the same earnestness. "But your sentiments are mutual, assuredly."

Gillette looked at his hands, clasped, for a moment. "And what of when you actually do make your holiday?"

Indulging to sustain the jesting, James replied, "I'm afraid if I do make the visit I would be compelled to remain with my family indefinitely. But, if my duty does not oblige me to return, your friendship will."

"But what if I come to England?"

"Then I'd have no reason to return."

The two men laughed for a while; it was all a fancy. To any person's knowledge, the only luggage the Commodore would be packing would be for another patrol. Norrington would never ignore his duty- it was what made the man. If he had nothing else in the world, James would still live for the Navy.

Serving in the Navy gave James all the contentment he had asked for in the past. To serve his fellow man gave him all the pleasure he felt he needed. But in finding love in another person, and being unable to provide her happiness despite all efforts, he was defeated in character. Heartbroken, the joy he used to find in devotion was absent. James wondered sadly if he would recover it again.

But as he sat with Andrew, observing the light in his laughter and cheer, there was a very present element of that contentment.

Aged assurances arose in his brain, articles of the constitution of his gratification. If he was not to discover happiness with a single companion, he would strive to find it once more not only in his duty sailing upon the boundless beautiful sea, but also recover it within cherished friendships of old, and find it especially, anchored within himself.

* * *

Author's Notes: Well, there you have it; complete! I do wish I could have done more with the story, and strengthen the conclusion. But my sad tale is that since September 4th, I have been a college student, and the workload that accompanies said titles is very uncompromising. I cannot make any promises on writing or even drafting a follow up story, but there are ideas about James's family and friends brewing in my brain. We'll see how things are come holiday breaks. 

A question or two for you: What was your favorite and least favorite part of the fanfiction? And also, do you think it would be in James's character to take leave to visit his family? Or would he feel too duty-bound to depart Port Royal? Tell me, what do you imagine our dear Commodore's old home life would be like? Any other comments are of course welcome as well.

I hope you enjoyed "We Learned The Sea;" I shall be very glad if you did. Once again, thank you for reading!


End file.
